


The Mariana Trench

by JustVisible



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dystopian-ish, Eventual Gay Lovin', M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustVisible/pseuds/JustVisible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things you see on the T.V are usually impersonal. Distant. You never consider that maybe what you see will happen to you. Take Percy for example, he never considered that maybe he was a half-blood; that he would be taken away. But he was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Percy knew what half bloods were, and what happened to them. He watched the news.

Or he at least knew half of what happened to them. A half-blood is discovered, captured and contained. They’re abandoned pets headed to the shelter. Percy had seen footage of them being lead by officers in bronze vests to Olympus Asylum. Not an insane asylum; it was claimed to be a "Behavioural rehabilitation and refuge for half-bloods". Political figures called it a B.R.R.H. Activists sometimes called it a B.R.R.D (saying demigods instead of half-bloods) something no one did if they valued their private life.

The Government claimed it was for everyone's safety; the foundation of Olympus Asylum. It was in everyone's best interest to put these people away. Everyone; including both the ordinary people of society and the half bloods themselves. In light of past wars, they were right.

It seemed to all make perfectly reasonable sense. No one questioned the fact that so many half-bloods entered, but very few came out. Olympus Asylum was there for wayward half-bloods to learn to control their talents, camouflage their scent to monsters, and become proper citizens of Society. Even though there were some half-bloods that didn't go quietly. At high costs.

It was a distant, impersonal image to watch. The events on the screen had no effect on Percy's day to day life as a middle school student. No importance, except maybe as small talk between curious people. Small talk that quickly lost the attention of an ADHD mind. His Step father — Gabe — would agree that it had no impact on his life, and would enforce this point by giving an example of what would; not taking out the trash for his dear daddy, for instance. This would impact his life, because daddy might decide that mummy hadn’t been treating Percy right, hadn’t been teaching him right, so best daddy gave mummy a good smack on the mouth. This would impact his life, because mummy does everything, and Percy’s a worthless piece of shit who relies too much on her. See? It’s a circle. The only circle Percy should be concerned about. School comes second to that circle. And Half-bloods come dead, dead, dead, dead, dead last. It is very important that daddy speaks in this heavy-lipped tone, the kind reserved only for babies and Percy, because Percy is retarded. Because Percy can’t read for shit. Because Percy is a drop out, who can’t stay in the one school for more than a year before something happens.

But Gabe was out that fateful night; drinking and playing poker with his friends somewhere else. So Retarded, worthless Percy had the house entirely to himself. And he couldn’t be happier. Except that he could, but never will.

He was lying on his bed at ten past seven with a panda pillow pet under his chin and a plate of blue cookies next to him. He was lazily scrolling down the latest assignment on his laptop. The T.V chattered to his left; another terrorist attack. He wasn’t really paying attention to the T.V.

His brain committed suicide shortly after reading _'Question 1: what are...'_ , and stared at the rest of it in a blur of sleepy disinterest. His dyslexia made the letters vibrate on the screen.

“I can't even read this," He muttered.

After a couple more out-of-focus pages, his cheek found the back of his hand and he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Percy found himself at the beach, skipping stones along the glassy sea.

He felt unnerved; he knew the sea was not suppose to be that docile. The waves were lapping the sand, the rim of white foam struggling to reach him. Meanwhile a storm brewed in the sky; the billowing clouds high and imposing like the roof of a cathedral over the smooth, blue floor of the sea.

He heard screams caught on the wind behind him, but he just kept skipping stones, trying to ignore them.

When the sea foam managed to touch his toes, it stuck to them like a frothy web. They engulfed his feet, bubbling and fizzing. He stumbled away from the tide with his new pair of foam socks. They traveled up his legs and caused him to fall on his rump. Once he was down, a wave suddenly crashed over him; embracing him in cold water before retreating. Power swelled inside of him, like someone had switched the _on_ button in his core. The glassy waters became alive with twisting columns of tornadoes touching the storm’s ceiling, sinking pits of whirlpools dropping into blackness and battling waves crashing together like the sea was wresting with itself.With his new found energy, he rose, and the world around him formed a strange sort of suction at his movement.

He jolted awake and punched himself in the tooth.

He rolled on his side, groaning into his bedsheets at the throbbing in his face. The door bell rang cheerfully down the hall. "Coming! Hold on!"

He got up to answer the door while sucking on his sore tooth and shaking the sting from his hand. The door bell kept ringing, _Ding-ding, ding-ding, di-di-ding-ding,_ sometimes repeating over itself like that. Whoever was at the door was frantic.

When Percy opened it, Grover burst in with a forced grin and shell shocked eyes. Before Percy could say anything close to a greeting, he had the air squeezed out of his lungs from the pressure of his best friend’s hug.

"Hey, easy there. What's up?" Percy laughed nervously.

“O-o-oh you know just dropping by..." His words rushed out in a flurry of high-strung notes.

Grover limped to the window and peered out. The street lamps of the city turned his mopy curls bright orange. His pupils dilated, and — for a moment — they seemed to slit, like a goat's.

Percy went to tap his friend on the shoulder, "Hello? Grover? What's up, man? Why so tense?"

Grover flinched away before squeaking, "what? Oh nothing. It's nothing. Just walking in the streets at this time, you know? Got me jittery. I get like that. I'm a coward, ha-ha. What about you, wassup?"

"Not much I've just been working on my ho-..."

"That's great! Listen, Percy. How 'bout you come over my place for tonight? The families away, you know, and I'd really like some company. I also don't want you here alone."

Percy frowned, before chuckling, "I appreciate the concern, but mum’s coming home soon anyways. Why don't you stay over here? She'd be glad to-..."

"No!" Grover suddenly exclaimed, "I mean, nah. No. Uh...I'd prefer to be at home, you know? I'd hate to bother you guys. Let's just go."

Percy raised an eyebrow but said alright. He would've asked more questions, but Grover was already packing Percy's bag for him. Percy went to text his mum but Grover took it away and said he'd call her for him. Next thing he knew, Grover's out the door with his bag.

Percy followed.

 

* * *

 

 

The air was nippy, biting him through his clothes, and Percy had taken his backpack upon his own shoulders. He didn't want Grover to trouble himself with Percy's burdens, what with the disease in his legs.

Grover was very clearly agitated. Whenever a car drove by his loud breathing would catch in his throat. When the car passed, he exhaled a cloud of white and continued on towards his house.

"So what's the problem?" Percy asked.

"Problem? No problem. Ju-just scared shitless of being alone is all," Grover flashed a sheepish grin, before getting out a cigarette and lighting it up. Percy was still getting use to seeing the stick in his friend’s squirrelly little mouth, but after a few weeks of hassling him, he’d learned to just drop it and judge him silently.

Percy snorted, still not completely fooled at his ‘no problem’ comment, "Fair enough. Though you seemed very desperate. So something's got to be up."

Grover looked thoughtful in the dim light of his cigarette. Thoughtful, and in a fragile state of nerve. 

"Come on, man. Tell me," Percy prodded.

They walked on for a couple of strides, silent. Grover kept tonguing the butt of his cigarette, while Percy breathed out his faux smoke. In the end, Grover looked up through the dimness at the last strips of dusk and said, "Have you looked at a sunset lately? They're nice."

Percy followed Grover's line of sight towards the horizon. Sunset’s are pretty things that Percy never paid much attention to. The closest thing to a romantic beach setting that Percy ever got was his desktop background.

Back at home, he can imagine that laptop in the same place he left it. On his bed. He had no idea that he'd never touch that laptop ever again. It stayed there, stuck on the same assignment while the nights events played out. Hell, he didn't even turn the T.V off.

It was while he was trying to figure out why Grover was so lousily changing the topic that his friend stopped dead in his tracks.

A man was walking towards them up the footpath. He wore a fedora and a fluro-yellow rain jacket, the type worn by policemen and lolly-pop ladies. Despite his attire, he was a big, intimidating bloke who radiated an aura of authority. He seemed normal enough; passable as an ordinary man walking home from work late in the afternoon.

Except his eyes glowed an unnatural yellow in the shadow of his face, as bright as his jacket.

"Let's take a short cut," Grover whimpered, and pulled Percy across the street. Illegally jay walking.

The man crossed the street as well. He sped up his steps to a fast walk. Grover's limps made him seem like he was galloping as he practically dragged Percy by the collar. Percy tore his hand away and sped up himself. The man was definitely following them. They came across a park and chose to cross the grass. They were eager to get to the safety of Grover's house.

It was at the fountain, in the middle of the park, that they were ambushed.

Like fireflies leaping out from tall grass, a dozen brightly-vested men manifested from between the shadowy trees. Grover stumbled to a stop, while Percy skidded on the heels of his sneakers. Adrenaline coursed through Percy's blood and his heart rate picked up.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit..." Grover whimpered, "Percy, what do we do!?"

"I wouldn't know!" He squeaked, before cringing at the sound of himself. Multiple scenarios flicked through his brain. None were positive, no outcomes ended with everyone going home happy. It was then that Percy recognised the symbol on their vests; a symmetrical black shape resembling a bull. The officers of Olympus Asylum.

Percy yelled the first thing that came to mind;

_"We're not half-bloods!"_

They all paused, tilting their heads in unison as if they rehearsed it. There was a long, tense pause. Then they straightened. “One of you is," Said an officer with a bushy beard.

They all advanced on the young boys. One grabbed Grover before either noticed he'd gotten so close. Percy immediately lashed out. Grover was freed as Percy latched onto the man in a bad imitation of a piggy back ride. Another man tore Percy off his back almost too easily.

Percy's elbow came around and smashed his nose in, causing him to be dropped. Percy rolled under their legs when they tried to grab for him. They were huge men. They soon learned the tactics of his game of rolley-polley and caught him by the effective manoeuvre of collapsing down on him. All the air escaped Percy’s lungs in a big huff, and his ribs were crushed painfully between a hard knee and even harder stone. They pulled him up and grabbed him by each limb.

Five of them surrounded him now. The one hugging his flailing left leg got out a syringe. Percy struggled wildly, screaming like an animal, to no avail. The syringe punctured his thigh.

Just a moment too late, Grover came to the rescue with his belt. The snap of the belt came like a whip, and the man with the syringe swore, spit flying. Like an abusive drunk who just lost the lottery, Grover lashed out and beat their backs raw.

"Let! Him! Go!" He cried, punctuating each word with a satisfying _crack!_

They all dropped Percy — who let out an oomph at contact with the ground — and turned their undivided attention to their wannabe tamer. Grover went pale, his fluffy chin quivering.

They advanced and he bleated like a petrified goat. He whipped his belt around, frantically crying, "Back! Back! _Back, you foul beasts!"_

He stumbled, tripped, and a shoe went flying to reveal...

...a hoof.

The men stood straight. The one in the fedora reached down and easily tore Grover's pants off from his kicking legs, revealing his goat-y hind-quarters.

"A satyr...of course," He said turning, "That means this one is the half-blood."

He tilted his hat up, winking bright yellow eyes at Percy under the brim, “Kill the goat and bring the boy.”

They pulled out their creamy white nightsticks and raised them high, ready to strike down on Grover's head and split it open like a red-centered coconut. Percy, blearily lying there with a half-emptied syringe still stuck in his leg, could barely understand what was going on. His brain was working in segments, spinning round and around like a roulette wheel, ticking past certain words. _Hoof...satyr...Grover...no pants...fluffy butt...kill the goat...kill the goat...kill the...the..._

No one's killing any goats on Percy's watch.

He drunkenly got on his hands and knees as he felt a hard tug in his stomach. Just as the nightsticks were being brought down, the fountain exploded.


	2. Admitting you have a problem

Sally Jackson came home to an empty house.

She dropped her keys and the crinkled bag of blue lollies on the kitchen table and called out for Percy. She took off her jacket and sighed, happy to be home. After work her girlfriends offered to hang out. After all the things she’d had to put up with concerning Gabe she couldn’t say yes fast enough. she’d texted Percy to inform him she won’t be home until dark, as if she was the child. She’d made jokes about that, but Percy always appreciated his mother giving him updates.

She called out again when a response hadn’t come. Still nothing.

She knocked on his door and waited. She could hear the T.V running through the panelling. When she entered the first thing she saw was Percy’s laptop, open and black-screened, next to a plate of untouched cookies on his bed. Her eyes scanned the room to see that it was vacant of her son.

 _Must be in the toilet,_ she thought to herself. She went to leave and think nothing more of it for a little while. Until her eyes glanced over to the T.V.

 

* * *

 

“C’mon Percy!” Grover pleaded, half dragging his drugged friend to the bus. “We’re going to miss it!”

“You need to shave your butt, Grover,” Percy mumbled, “You’re all fluffy…”

“The mist will take care of that, just lift your feet!”

He’s said that three times, and each time Percy looked around to see if it was foggy that night. It wasn’t. It was cold, the grass was dewy, but there was no ‘mist’.

They arrived at the bus just in time and Grover tags on. “Percy, did you bring your card?”

A non-committal moan was all he got. Grover cursed in ancient Greek before telling the bus driver to wait as he started to grope his best friend’s rump for a wallet. If said driver found it strange that a sopping wet, half-goat boy was molesting his apparently black-out drunk friend, he didn’t show it. Just sat there patiently, staring at them. He was covered from head to toe, his face hidden under a cap and wrapped in a scarf. After a while he just hit the button to close the doors and started driving.

Grover was thrown against the panel as the bus lurched, and Percy crumbled to the floor, “Percy! Come _on!”_

He dragged him down the aisle. Halfway to a seat he gave up and sat in the middle of it with Percy’s head in his lap. He got out a bottled water and squirted it into Percy’s face. Percy suddenly lurched up, coughing and spluttering. He blinked, eyes wide.

“Your butt is fluffy!”

“Please stop saying that…” Grover looked up to see the only other people on the bus.

There was a seemingly homeless man sleeping on the back seats, and a woman with a baby pram staring forlornly out the window. Luckily they weren’t paying them any mind.

“Where’re we going?” Percy asked, getting to his feet and stumbling to a window.

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” Grover explained, “So we’re going to the safest place I know.”

“What happened?” He asked.

“You made the fountain explode,” Grover put bluntly as he shakily fished out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

“That was me?” He asked it rhetorically, because he knew he’d done that himself. He’d felt it.

It was about then that Percy became aware of flashing blue and red lights behind them, lighting up the bus. After a minute of the lights making a rave, a police siren began to wail.To both of the boys horror, the bus pulled over to the side. The driver glanced over his shoulder at the two, before nodding his head towards the left side of the bus. Percy looked to see an emergency escape window.

What looked like SWAT members — but with those infamous bright yellow vests on — came up the side of the bus. They knocked quite casually on the door, and the bus driver opened up for them. Percy grabbed the emergency hammer, and got ready to smash the glass.

“Good afternoon,” One man thrummed with a deep, guttural voice. “Do not be alarmed, but we believe there may be a half-blood on board.”

Two other men made their way down the aisle, one telling the scarce amount of people on board; “Don’t move and don’t be alarmed, everything is under control.”

Percy didn’t adhere to that.

He stood up and swung the hammer, shattering the glass. Almost immediately after standing, he’d felt a pressure in his arm, as if someone had tapped him with a finger. He didn’t pause to see who or what it was, and jumped out of the bus. He did a forward roll when he hit gravel and immediately bolted down the road. Grover fumpled after him, galloping his strange, goat sprint.

“Into the woods!” He said, making towards the edge of the road.

Percy felt another couple of thumps in his back, and suddenly he felt very tired all over again. His movements became sloppy. He caught a glimpse of his arm, and saw a couple of darts sticking out of him as if he’d been attached by a porcupine. That explained a lot.

He tripped over his feet and fell on his face.

Grover kept galloping for a while, before he realised Percy wasn’t following anymore. He skidded to a stop and cried back, “PERCY!”

There were helicopters, humming like giant wasps in the sky, bearing searchlights down at the young boy’s squirming form. Grover — the kindly moron — was hesitating at the edge a ways up the road, fighting between the urge to fight and the urge to fly. Percy just wanted to shove him down the slope. He reached out a hand and tried to summon up that power that came to his aid back at the fountain. He felt the drain pipe beneath the earth tremble, he don’t know how, but he just did. The piping broke, erupting a fierce spray out of the dirt and jetting itself into Grover’s back. The goat boy let out a shriek as he was shoved ahead. He slid down the mud slide and disappeared amongst the trees, out of their reach. At least for a little while.

The helicopters buzzed excitedly at the display, big silver eyes scoring the trees for Grover, who was nowhere to be seen. Percy grinned, triumphant, but not for long. He suddenly felt hands on him again. His arms were wrenched up behind his back in a harsh lock, making him cry out in pain. He barely had time to realise his mum was probably watching all this, before a baton came down on his skull.

 

* * *

 

 

You live your early life thinking you’re indestructible. You may even think you’re something special; a soon-to-be superstar, smiling on T.V — on the opposite side of the screen to the audience — and becoming something huge.

Well, Percy was on the opposite side of the screen now. He had forgotten to smile.

He sat handcuffed (The handcuffs were weird, they made him feel drowsy and ill to his stomach) to a metal chair in a clean, white room. His eyes glued themselves to the T.V in the top right corner. It was his big moment, playing out on television.

It was so very similar — but also so very different — to the other times he’d watched this channel. How many times had he zoned out while this sort of stuff was running? How many times had they broadcasted yet another terrorist attack or discovered Half-blood going ballistic? Oh, he remember one kid (speculated to be a son of Ares) who blew up a few shops with a rocket launcher before they pinned him down, literally.

Well, it was one show he wasn’t expecting to make an appearance on, but there he was. His black hair was a mess, windblown into a fluffy halo, and his clothes whipped around his body, showing off how skinny and small he was. He saw the events play out in pretty bad quality; the T.V was a bit grainy. The angles they shot were pretty cool. He got to relive that fountain exploding; erupting like a white volcano. He still remembered how the spray of it felt like liquid shrapnel. He felt it strike across his face, even there in the dry room. The spray hadn’t hurt, instead it strengthened. He got to see Grover get drenched along with the others, all shaggy fur and trembling bones. He got to see his own face; his green eyes wide in drunken surprise. His body - from head to toe -- completely dry, despite being the closest to the fountain. The men in vests straightened up, an echo of the real life moment that made his heart stutter in horror.

He saw the two of them run for their lives. At one point, he fell into Grover, and the goat-boy had to shuffle them along in the most awkward looking three-legged race Percy had ever seen. They were never truly out of sight, always at least a pixel on the screen. The eyes of the world were incredibly stubborn in their stickiness. It was disheartening to think, because Percy remembered feeling so hopeful when they got to the bus, so sure they were at least a little way’s out of their reach. Funny enough, the bus was a big shape on the screen, and the world witnessed their terrible attempt at escape.

He watched as the pipe erupted and shoved his friend out of harms way. He watched himself be struck on the back of the head, before getting smuggled into the back of a black armoured van with the logo of Olympus Asylum on the side. He read the captions running along the bottom of the screen: "DELINQUENT HALF-BLOOD CAPTURED AND CONTAINED. TWELVE-YEAR-OLD PERCY JACKSON."

Maybe he should’ve felt something, but he didn’t. None of it felt quite real yet. Stupidly he wondered where the rewind button was. Not for the T.V, but for his life, so he could go back to the moment when Grover burst through his door and try again; maybe take a roundabout path to Grover’s house, or see about hoping on the bus to the safe house early. As if it was all a game.

He figured he just had to give it a minute. Yes, maybe if he stared _extra hard_ at the table he’ll be able to fall back into his body — interpret it all as reality — and start screaming. The panic was just under his skin, he could feel it. His knee started to jitter.

A couple of moments passed before someone entered the room. For a stupid second, Percy thought it was his mum and it had him pleasantly startled for a moment, but the second passed. She had the same frizzy, grey streaked hair; beautiful in it’s wear. Had the same soft, willowy frame that made him melt and want to run up and hug her. Her face however, was too tight. Her eyes too black and her nose had a hook to it. She smiled sweetly at him none the less and sat across from him.

“How are you feeling, Mr.Jackson?” She asked softly.

Woah, 'Mr.Jackson' was a sobering way to be addressed. He couldn’t help but feel as if this was just a tad bit too civil, but he didn’t see a shred of hostility in this woman.

“I feel a little sick,” He said honestly.

“A side effect of the sedatives they administrated. Don’t worry, honey, it’ll wear off.” She said it as if he’d just got back from the dentist, not just come back from unconsciousness after being shot down like a wild deer.

"Does my mum know I'm here?"

"She will be receiving an email from us shortly, yes."

“What’s this about?” He asked, eyeing her gnarled fingers wearily.

“No need to fret, Mr.Jackson. I can see you’re a good boy, and so long as you’re good, no harm will come of you. You’re here for _you_ , after all. Demigods are incredible beings, but not always incredibly _good_. With such powerful people, it can upset the natural order of things. They can be a danger to History, Society, and themselves. We’ve been alerted to your true nature and we — as an organization — have performed the proper protocols in response. I’m sorry if you’ve felt a bit…well…man-handled in the process.” She did a little laugh at the end.

“I’m not a half-blood.” Percy said hurriedly.

She didn’t look the slightest bit swayed. Suddenly Percy was seeing a much sour side to her, as she stopped smiling, stopped talking, and just stared down her hooked nose at him like a vulture.

“I’m not!” He squeaked, trying to get her to stop looking at him like that. He jerked at his handcuffs indignantly, rattling them as if they could hammer home his point. He was normal gods damn it! He had _homework_ to do!

“Now, honey…” She said, real sweet, not moving a muscle from how she sat perched in her chair across from him, “…I understand if you’re having a hard time believing it, but you _are_. We have live footage of that fountain erupting, and that pipe on the side of the road as well—…”

“The plumbing in this city is terrible.”

“It wasn’t the plumbing, honey, it was you.”

“But half-bloods…” He started, he found he was shaking, “…but half-bloods get locked away. I mean, they blow things up and hurt people and get locked away for it. I’ve never done anything like this! Not until you guys showed up and scared the living shit out of me!”

“not all half-bloods _blow things up_ as you see on television. Some hide away in hovels, others become political figures and superstars without ever knowing the danger they impose on others.”

Percy recalled a singer he really liked coming out as a child of Apollo. They were aiming for a revolution, seeking justice for the mistreatment and misrepresentation of demigods, hoping their popularity would keep them safe.

They were mistaken.

They were taken away 24 hours after their announcement. The media had a field trip on that one. Though just as quickly as the media came swarming like flies to a corpse, they just as quickly silenced. No one mentioned it. No more of their songs played on the radio. They were completely vaporised from the internet, even illegal downloads stopped working. And CDs…let’s face it, no body has CDs, and those who did hadn’t noticed when the few in their basement bleeped out of existence. It was strange, very strange.

But Percy wasn’t a terrorist, or a famous singer or — hell — even a hermit. He was just an average, run of the mill, adolescent boy who just so happened to make water happen. Sure, he could hardly stay in one school for a year. Sure, he had a short temper. Sure there was the water, but he was normal. Completely normal. He tried to keep telling himself that. Normal, normal, normal. A normal, normal person, from Normalville in Normal Tennessee. He was completely and utterly normal. She just didn’t understand that. She was mistaken, obviously. She had the wrong dyslexic teenager. He had to keep telling himself this, because the only other conclusion would be that she was right, and he belonged right where he was. And if that was the case, his life, as he knew it, was over. Officially over. He was no longer even American, no longer a member of the Land of Opportunity. There was no opportunity. Just walls. So he had to tell himself he was normal, because if he said it enough times in his head, he could convince himself it was true, and if it was true to him, it had to be true to her.

He almost didn’t notice his teeth were chattering, though he wasn’t cold.

“I know you must feel very scared,” She tried to tell him, “But you don’t have to be afraid. It’s not over. This isn’t prison, nor is this an insane asylum. This is just a temporary haven to help you better understand yourself. You’ll come to terms with who you are, and learn to live a normal life; not in ignorance and not in chaos, but in peace. Once you’ve obtained this capability for peace, you’ll be able to go home. We’ll bus you straight to your address, and you’ll resume school where you left off as if nothing had happened. Is that alright with you?”

Yes, that made sense. It sounded very sensible. Percy looked around the room before locking eyes on the static of the T.V screen. He remembered the men tearing Grover’s pants off his goat legs. _Kill the goat…_ one had said.

“Those men who caught me said they were going to kill my friend. Why?”

She turned this over in her mind very briefly. “Your friend might’ve been a satyr. They’re a very manipulative breed of monster. They may pretend to be your friend, your companion, but you should know that satyrs have a very unsavoury history, especially concerning nymphs.”

Percy squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable, “You mean…with how they use to…?”

“They’re lustful. Manipulative and unsavoury; I can’t stress this enough. It was good that you two were separated in time.”

Now that was just ridiculous. Grover was weedy and awkward and couldn’t manipulate his way out of a shallow ball pit. All the girls at school always made fun of him, throwing peanut butter sandwiches at the back of his head, and he wouldn’t so much as twitch. Well, that’s a lie, he’d quake like a leaf; his wispy little goatee trembling under his lip. Percy tried to bring up the subject of girlfriends but Grover would just squirm and blush and change the topic. In no way did he strike Percy as manipulative, or a _sex fiend_. Come on! It just didn’t add up in his head.

The woman’s eyes had softened though, reminding him so much of his mother’s eyes after he’d just asked why she stayed with Gabe. Why? Why Gabe? Those eyes almost made what she’d just said about Grover sound believable. She splayed her fingers on the table, as if she would reach out and take his hand.

“I know you must’ve trusted him,” She whispered, “But that was the whole point. He was a beastly creature underneath whatever persona he might’ve had you see. If you’d gone with him, he would’ve done the exact same…unsavoury…things to you, make no mistake. I’ve seen cases like this happen too many times to count. I know.”

Percy didn’t want to hear this, he didn’t really believe it, but she sounded so convincing. He chose to stay silent, staring at his feet. He also tried to ignore the rush of warmth he felt at the thought. Someone had wanted him that way…

No, he squashed whatever weird place his mind was going with that.

“The first step before being fully committed,” She said 'committed' so tenderly, as if she was just dancing on the word and quickly moving on, “is to admit — aloud — what you are. Who you are.”

She clasped her fingers together, the knobbly knuckles slotting perfectly, and smiled. “Who are you Percy Jackson?”

He swallowed. “I’m…” He stopped. She waited patiently. “I’m…I’m not…I can’t be…”

She sighed through her nose. She suddenly reached under the table and materialised a file, dropping it on the table. She flicked over and started to fire off questions.

“You have a single mum, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Ever told you what happened to your dad?”

“He was lost at sea--…”

“Ever had trouble reading, honey? Dyslexia probably?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever had trouble concentrating in class? Ever felt hyper alert? Unable to sit through long tests or examinations? ADHD possibly?”

“Ye—”

“Does your stepfather have a particularly strong smell?”

“Yeah, I nicknamed him ‘Smelly Gabe’,” Percy blurted out, not even sure what that had to do with anything.

She held up her hand and started counting with her fingers, “One) Dyslexia: a side effect of a brain hardwired for Ancient Greek. two) ADHD: Battle instincts, taking in too much at a time and taking in nothing as a result in the classroom.”

“And a smelly stepdad?”

“A masking technique.”

“A masking taped knee?” He asked.

“a masking technique; your mother probably married him solely to hide your scent with his, so no monsters would find you. It’s a surprisingly common practice, right up there with frequenting taco bell and working in perfume shops.”

Now that hit hard. For years Percy’s mum had been putting with that walrus of a creature, solely for him? For Percy? To _hide_ him? That was too much. She closed the file, much more gently than when she'd brought it out.

“I’m sorry Percy, but now’s the time for blunt truths, not dancing around little fairytails about Pinocchio being a real boy all along. You know deep down what you are. You can feel it in your blood. It’s _strong blood_ you have. I want you to speak for yourself, and tell me exactly who you are.” She sat back and looked at him pointedly.

He licked his lips and shifted in his chair, handcuffs clinking. I’m normal, he thought. I’m normal. I'm normal. I'm normal. I’m a half-blood. I’m normal. I’m normal. A half-blood. Normal. Demigod. Normal...normal...

He let out a breath, before admitting it in his head. He was a Demigod. A half-blood. 

Eventually he opened his mouth, fully aware there might be a mic or camera eating up his confession:

“My name is Percy Jackson. I’m a demigod; the son of Sally Jackson and a Greek God who I don't yet know. I’m a danger to History, Society…" He paused, "…and myself.”

She smiled at him, before extending her hand for him to shake. He accepted it -- straining against the handcuffs awkwardly -- unaware that he’d just signed his name on a very long-term contract. “That was a fine introduction, Percy Jackson. I'm Mrs.Dodds. It’s an honour to finally meet you.”


End file.
